


Collateral Damage

by Ringshadow



Series: Dynamic Factors [5]
Category: Avengers, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Death of an OC, M/M, that happens to be a minor, this one's depressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 15:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2552843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ringshadow/pseuds/Ringshadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the job is saving people. Sometimes it's killing people. Sometimes it's both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collateral Damage

"Sir, we have a problem."

 

Phil looked up from his computer screens. "Something new enough it isn't on my ticker yet?"

 

Skye had set up his command station with a large central monitor and four smaller auxiliaries, originally, and then Tony had drifted by and pooh-poohed the conglomeration of monitors. Now Phil had a very large main monitor, surrounded by floating holographic displays. He could shuffle through them by touch, grabbing what was on the screen and tossing it to shuffle with the other holographs then pulling another display back. It let him look at enemy bases as rough 3D projections among other things.

 

Skye's crush on Stark was back, naturally, but Phil had figured that would happen.

 

Skye had designed a ticker for him, like news stations had, that ran at the bottom of his screen and never minimized. It was full of developing situations and new intel, color coded by level of urgency, and if a minimized screen was related it would light up to match. Some of SHIELD's technotaku department one floor up worked with intelligence to keep it absolutely up to date.

 

It was clever, though it did lead to him feeling roughly like he was drowning sometimes.

 

"Probably coming up now, look for the blue ticker." May replied. "It just came across the police scanners."

 

"Oh, local problem."

 

"Mutant hurting civilians in Central Park."

 

Phil's eyebrows went up. "On purpose or skill backlash?"

 

"We don't know yet. Intel thinks it might be one of the escaped prisoners HYDRA cut loose."

 

Of everything HYDRA had done Phil hated that the most. The prisoners, most superpowered, were managing about a fifty percent rate of endangering civilians. The other half had simply disappeared and frankly if they were trying to return to a normal life Phil wasn't going to pursue them.

 

He knows SHIELD has a lot to atone for. Their treatment of prisoners, up to and including human experimentation, being a very black mark on their souls.

 

"It's possible." Phil stood.

 

"Hawkeye and Widow are already gearing up to take care of it, they were hoping you'd personally brief them and be on the coms with them."

 

"I'll do one better; I'll go with them, if only to be able to contain any media fiasco. Thank you May."

 

He was already armed so he just headed for the ready room, where Clint and Natasha were waiting. Both actually smiled when he walked in. "Here to tell us who this is sir?" Clint asked. His new uniform jacket was longer, and it flowed around him. Phil was starting to have suspicions about their uniform designers.

 

"I'm going with you actually. Let's move before anyone else gets hurt."

 

A SHIELD badged SUV was enough to get them past the outer ring of cop cars. Evacuating something like the park was a major endeavor, but cars and sawhorses were setting up definite barriers. Probably less than half the park was actually cleared, Phil mused as Natasha parked. They all got out at the same time because some things were just habit, and they both fell in behind him as he headed for a cop which appeared to be directing others."

 

"What's the situation?" Phil wanted to know, flashing his badge as he walked up.

 

"I'm not sure if I should be happy to see you or not." The cop replied sourly. "We've got the park clear. No deaths, but a lot of casualties regardless. The victims are brain damaged is what I'm being told. Subject's curled in the fetal position on a park bench, roughly center of the park."

 

Hawkeye already had viewfinders out, looking then passing them to Phil. "Easy shot."

 

"No. This sounds like uncontrolled defensive actions. Call your shot a contingency plan." Phil said, looking through the viewfinders.

 

"You familiar with the subject?" The cop asked. "Because sounds like you recognized his modus operandi."

 

"Yes. His name is Micah." He lowered the viewfinders, looking back at the cop. "He is fifteen. And this is my fault."

 

"What?" The cop and Clint wanted to know simultaneously.

 

"I met Micah when he was eleven. His talent broke through and his entire family was rendered brain-dead. The neighbors didn't fare much better. By the time SHIELD found him he was, understandably, traumatized."

 

"Shit." The cop said with some emphasis. Natasha and Clint were stone-faced; they'd both seen these things far too often.

 

"Some mutants can handle it or they have powers that aren't damaging. Micah never got a handle on it. He hears everyone around him all the time. What they're thinking and feeling. That on top of puberty and starting to realize as a sub." Phil shrugged minutely. "I was one of the responders and I put him in the Vault for lack of a better option. He wanted quiet. There were rooms in the Vault that could do that. Fury was supposed to find something better."

 

"Guess that didn't happen." The cop said, frowning deeply.

 

"No. It didn't. He's actually a really good kid."

 

"We have witnesses that say he was screaming at people to leave before it all started."

 

"Sounds about right." Phil looked back out over the park. "So. Perimeter. Guessing he's got a roughly round area of effect around him, keeping people away."

 

"Yeah. No one's gotten close. We were discussing tranquilizers."

 

Phil gave the viewfinders back to Clint. "Well if this doesn't work that's a good option."

 

"If what doesn't work?" The cop asked, but Phil was already walking past their perimeter into the park.

 

"Sir!" Clint barked, and Phil felt the dominant tone roll over him like a wave.

 

"It's fine Barton." He glanced over his shoulder, then continued forward. He slowed as he got close, bringing his hands up to show they were empty.

 

Micah had grown since he remembered, still dirty blonde, but gangly and taller. Bony actually and his hair had been buzzed tight, showing the brutal marks of what was done to him. It made less pleasant memories flash through Phil's mind. Bad enough they'd done that to him, but to a kid this young? To what end?

 

He'd gotten to maybe ten yards out, edging inside the perimeter apparently set by Micah, when the teen's eyes flew open and recognition immediately crossed his face. He pushed off the bench with one arm, and his scream wasn't entirely out loud. "Not you NOT YOU AGAIN...!"

 

Phil almost buckled to the ground at the rush of pain between his ears but he stayed up, kept his hands up and empty. "Micah. Just read my mind. I didn't know."

 

Micah stared at him. ".. You didn't. And they worked on you too."

 

"Yes. I was dead. No consent given." His shrug was helpless. "Extremes were gone to, to make me live again. I don't approve but here I am."

 

"You died." Not a question, really, Micah's in his head without meaning to be.

 

"Yes. May I sit?"

 

The stare he got was narrow and suspicious but Micah sat up fully and scooched over. Phil walked over and sat down carefully next to him, one leg crossing over the other and laced hands resting on them.

 

"You put me in a lab." He said it in a nasty, accusatory tone.

 

"Trust me when I say that wasn't my intent. It was supposed to be temporary until we figured out something better." Phil replied.

 

"... It wasn't bad the first year. I had tutors, they were nice. One of them brought me a Super Famicom and was using Chrono Trigger to help teach me Japanese." Micah admitted. "Then it was all just gone and some asshole wanted to make me stronger and I kept telling him I just wanted it to stop."

 

"I'm very sorry."

 

"You really are." He frowned at Phil.

 

"How did you end up here?"

 

"I don't remember. They had me on a lot of drugs." He sniffled and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. Phil slowly wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tugged him in; Micah went willingly and hid against his side.

 

"So you wouldn't complain and would just obey." Phil sighed.

 

"When I got old enough they just kept me spaced instead." He shuddered, and Phil wanted to burn the world down. "I never meant to hurt anyone."

 

"I know."

 

"I just want it to stop I just want the noise and the pain to stop I want quiet I just want it to be quiet..."

 

"I know."

 

He didn't say anything for a moment, hiding his face against Phil's jacket. Phil stayed where he was, brows drawn together and looking down at him.

 

"Can you put me somewhere?"

 

"There is nowhere I would trust as safe." For him or for others.

 

Another silence, Micah dropping his hands and looking up at him. "... Can you just make it fast?"

 

"I can." Phil agreed, very softly. "If that's the way you want to go."

 

"Coulson..." Natasha's voice floated in his earpiece, and he took it as she was acknowledging what was about to happen.

 

"Don't lie to me." Micah flared at the same time, pulling away hard and Phil let him. "We both know that's the only way this ends. I won't hurt anyone anymore! And..." He frowned. "Remember your death?"

 

Don't think about elephants, Phil thought helplessly, as the memories resurfaced. Loki and his death wound, blurry memories of Fury, calm and acceptance and everything stopping and a single last breath stretching into space. Stars and nebulas and freedom from pain and danger and nothing but the exhilaration of exploration.

 

"..that seems nice." Micah rubbed at his eyes then squared up his shoulders. "I want. I want donuts and a white ribbon. Before this."

 

"You get that Barton?" Phil wanted to know, lifting a hand to the radio earpiece.

 

"Uh, yeah. We got it. We need a little time."

 

"I'll get the ribbon. There's a boutique a block over." Natasha said briskly. "We will send a cop for a dozen donuts, they would know those shops better than we would."

 

"And I want to be cremated. No autopsy." Micah squared his shoulders again.

 

"You don't need to put on a brave face kid."

 

"No. No it isn't that. The last three years I haven't had any control. This I can control. I'm going out my way. Cremate me. I don't want anyone else being hurt by what some asshole can learn from my body." He grabbed Phil's lapels. "You promise me."

 

"I'll personally see it done." Phil replied, patting his shoulder.

 

"Kid's got moxie." Clint said, sounding as sad as Phil felt. "We've got press out here, boss."

 

"Keep them back."

 

Ten minutes later Micah had his donuts and was burning through them like a man starved. Five minutes after that, Natasha brought a high end white ribbon choker that had "Liberty" embroidered on it in silver. It fit Micah nearly perfectly. Phil wasn't surprised.

 

They didn't bother speaking really. There wasn't anything left to say. Phil stayed, and kept him company quietly. He tried to keep his thoughts calm and neutral, in spite of the horribleness of it all.

 

Eventually Micah pushed away the empty donut box and looked at him, trying to keep a brave face on. "Let's do it. Now. I can hear them. I can hear what they're thinking about me. Make it stop."

 

"Is there anything you want to say?"

 

"No. Just. Think about that place you went when you died. So I can see it."

 

Phil did and thought hard on it, and kept it at the front of his thoughts even as he lifted his hands. Micah didn't really have time to register Phil's touch before his neck was broken, and Phil kept the image of stars in his mind as he lowered Micah to the ground and shut his eyes.

 

"I need a stretcher and a sheet." Phil said, standing back up, somehow keeping the thickness in his throat and the burning in his eyes out of his voice.

 

"Already on the way. The press just lost their minds sir." Clint sounded strained.

 

"This first."

 

The cops were all very sober when they arrived, and Phil helped transfer the body to the gurney, folding Micah's arms over his stomach then draping him with the sheet. He walked next to them on the way back to the line, explaining that SHIELD will take authority over the body and that it was not going to the morgue and will not be getting an autopsy.

 

The news crews were all but incoherently shouting questions when they walked by, a wall of noise behind the sawhorses. Phil ignored it with a lot of difficulty until the doors of an ambulance closed, the EMTs offering to bear Micah's body to a crematorium when he was ready.

 

Natasha was probably behind that. She was leaning on the ambulance on the phone, apparently in the process of finding a crematorium that could, ahem, take a rush order.

 

Phil mustered a sad thankful smile at her before straightening his back and tie, turning back to the news crews and walking to them. Clint moved with him and stood beside him, sunglasses hiding what was likely a scowl. Phil assessed the crowd, then put a hand up. "I will speak when you are quiet."

 

This of course did little to stop it all, and he really hated how many reporters were apparently doms. He felt like he was standing in a hailstorm, already weakened and being worn down further by the impacts.

 

He gritted his teeth, reached into habit and raised his voice. "I will speak when you are quiet!" He roared, and that finally had the affect he wanted, the questions slowing to a halt. "Thank you. Now, before any misinformation starts... his name was Micah. He was fifteen, and he was not a monster, he was not a terrorist, he was a victim."

 

He folded his hands in front of himself, trying to pick his words carefully. "And yes. I killed him. He asked me to do so. Micah was a mutant, and he had no control. He never wanted to hurt anyone. He liked soccer, and video games, and he wanted to be a chef. His talent prevented that from happening. SHIELD took custody of him and sadly things only got worse for him. We don't know how he ended up here, but rest assured we will find out."

 

He can hear the cameras going, and tried to ignore the many microphones shoved at him. "Now, who am I? I am Director Coulson. I am currently in command of the remains of the agency, and what happened to Micah is related to what happened to us. When the organization began we took scientists in, in good faith. Many American agencies did under the banner of Operation Paperclip. These people used the situation to rot us from the inside out, and were so proficient at the task we never knew. They used that to manipulate the good people of the agency into projects with wicked ends. That included human experimentation."

 

He took a slow breath. "In a few days I will release a report of the experimentation we know about, including victim lists. I will have you know that I have been a fan of Captain America all my life, but the project he came from started a dangerous precedent. We experimented on a man and made him better, made him a hero and a star. That somehow forgave the concept and has been used as a reason for years now, and it needs to stop. The end will never justify these means."

 

He gave the cameras a look. "And to General Talbot, who I'm sure is going to use this as his newest reason to try to force our doors shut and arrest my intelligence personnel, I have two words: war drugs. That is all, and I will take no questions."

 

He turned and walked back to the ambulance, ignoring the rising cacophony behind him.

 

"You are still an impressive stirrer of shit, sir." Clint remarked, walking next to him.

 

"You say that as if that will ever change. Let's honor the kid's last request."

 

* * *

 

 

The sun was setting, shadows stretching long, when Phil, Natasha, and Clint left the crematorium. It was a well thought of place and they had agreed to the request with an air of somber duty. They'd watched over the process for the sake of security, and left only when the cremation was half over.

 

"I'll pick up his ashes tomorrow." Natasha said, in the driver's seat again. They were nearly at the tower, having spent most of the ride in silence. "Where should we scatter his ashes?"

 

"Space." Phil replied after a beat. "Do you think Stark is willing?"

 

"I would say yes." Clint said as they turned the corner. "Look at the flags."

 

The flags of Avengers Tower were all at half-mast.

 

The rest of the group were gathered in the common room when they went upstairs, JARVIS telling them so then just taking them up. Phil didn't argue, he felt raw inside and positive company sounded like a good idea.

 

"We're making chili. Thought you'd all want in." Pepper said by way of greeting, walking up and carefully hugging Phil. "Hey."

 

He smiled and sagged into the hug, returning it. Before when they'd talked she'd always swung dom, now she swung to sub, always making sure they were on even footing. It was hard to put into words how much he appreciated it. "Sounds good. Thank you Pepper."

 

"Sounds excellent." Clint agreed. "We need some grills up here."

 

"I like the idea, but it’s too windy on the balcony." Tony said, not in the communal kitchen this floor had because he still had the domestic skills of a horrible assassin. "I'll come up with something. Hey Agent. Bad day."

 

"Did you put the flags to half-mast for him?"

 

"Steve did that."

 

He nodded. "Would you be willing to scatter his ashes?"

 

"Sure, once it's time just let me know where."

 

Phil patted Tony's shoulder and was about to move toward the couches to collapse on one of the memory foam pillows scattered on the floor (because say what you will about Tony, he tried to look after them all and knew both sides of the argument) when JARVIS came back on the overhead.

 

"Director Coulson, Agent May would like to come up and speak to you."

 

"Fine, send her up." He sat heavily on the couch instead, even if it wasn't nearly as satisfying. He wanted to be on the floor for a while, leaning on one of Clint's legs and zoning out. Soon hopefully, after today he needed the comfort.

 

"We generally try not to talk business up here you know." Steve said, stepping out of the kitchen, Sam sticking his head out curiously.

 

"I know. I'm hoping it’s something quick, if not we'll step out on the balcony." He considered Steve, healed and in casual clothes, managing to look comfortable and almost soft edged in this place. Steve being sub had been huge, back in the day. Oh subs had rights but they were always passed over for certain jobs, doms sneering that the nature of a sub wasn't conductive to combat positions or police or fire department. Steve had gutted that argument. "On that note, great job the last few missions."

 

"Your briefings were detailed, which made it easy." He smiled a bit. "We might have them on the run."

 

"Roaches scattering in the light. We have a long, long way to go but it’s a good start."

 

The elevator opened and May stepped out, glancing around then walking over to Phil. "We need to talk."

 

"Outside then." He stood with effort, walking to the balcony door and holding it open for both of them. "I hope you understand that it's been a trying day so I don't really want to dig into anything."

 

"That's one of the things I wanted to talk about. I agree with your actions, as terrible as it was, it was a mercy killing." She's somber. "It's the report I'm curious about. Gathering all of the data we have on human experimentation will take time."

 

"I'm going to give that assignment out tomorrow. Get some of our personnel gathering data, once it's all compiled I'll write the report myself. The world deserves to know the truth. About what we've done, and the military, and groups like HYDRA and AIM." Phil shook his head. "Why do we have victim lists if they haven't been made public?"

 

"There are still a lot of unknowns on that list."

 

"If they have tombs for unknown soldiers, we can still give unknown victims a voice." He replied. "Maybe if we tell the stories, this will stop."

 

"Is this because of the kid?"

 

"I'm a victim too, Melinda."

 

"You are alive because of it." She replied, voice getting more severe. "Saying that you are a victim of a lifesaving procedure makes it sound like you want to die again."

 

"I am a victim of a procedure that removed weeks, hell months of my memories. A procedure that made me a sub." His voice went frigid. "A procedure that tore me from something beautiful. Wake up tomorrow in agony with shadows of memories and nightmares of paradise and your body slipping to the opposite factor and tell me how you feel about it. Until then, you are in no position to tell me how I should feel about this situation. I don't want to die again, but I will not let you tell me why I should live."

 

She took a step back and blinked before nodding once.

 

"Now, anything else before I go eat dinner and try to forget this conversation?"

 

"I'm not mad about being on the desk you know. Administration's needed right now. I'm busy." She shrugged. "And I didn't want to be in combat."

 

"I know."

 

"But why the security levels?"

 

"You'll earn them back when I feel like I can trust you with my secrets. By the way, I've found three bugs in my office." He stared at her. "Look into it for me and let whoever did it know that I have no time for such foolishness."

 

"Yes sir." She went back inside and he followed, standing until she got on the elevator then collapsing onto a cushion with a groan.

 

"Not a lot of trust there." Pepper observed, sitting next to Phil on the floor. Bruce wandered out of the kitchen and toted a third pillow over, dropping it next to them and sitting cross legged.

 

"Well professionally I trust her. Personally, I wouldn't go to her for advice." Phil sat back up, pulling his tie free. "I just want her to feel like she fucked up and should atone a bit."

 

"Punishment detail. You've put me there plenty of times." Clint smiled, stepping over and helping Phil out of his suit jacket, taking the tie as well and tucking it in one of the jacket pockets.

 

"Yes, and you always deserved it." Phil scoffed but smiled up at him. "How long on the chili?"

 

"About half an hour. We're waiting on cornbread." Steve also dropped a pillow on the floor, pulling at the laces on Phil's boots.

 

"What brought this on?" He wanted to know, going still and feeling a blush climb up his cheeks. He knew he'd managed to be an utter ass to Steve as a dom, and as a sub he wasn't sure what ground they were on.

 

"You had a hard day and deserve to be taken care of."

 

He was willing to accept that and only put up a feeble protest when they all glommed onto him. He ended up sprawled across multiple cushions on his back, head and shoulders propped on Steve's stomach, Bruce and Pepper leaning on him. "Shall we pillow fight next?" He wanted to know but didn't try to move.

 

"If you guys do I'm filming it for later various uses." Tony said, leaning on the back of the couch and observing the pile of subs.

 

"Why am I not surprised?" Steve wanted to know. "Besides I know that's a lie, you'd join in."

 

Phil just smiled a touch, hands settling in Bruce's hair and starting to rub his scalp, letting himself drift in a haze of warmth, safety and family.


End file.
